


You're so sweet but I like it rough

by winter_angst



Series: Hunger of the Pine Inspired [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Political Animals
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Disabled Character, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Narcotics, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock and Jack disagree about Brock's drug use and Brock is left to choose between his habits and his heart. It takes hitting rock bottom for him to make up his mind.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Hunger of the Pine Inspired [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886536
Kudos: 17





	You're so sweet but I like it rough

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hunger of the Pine (Hiatus)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548624) by [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999). 



> Please heed the warning, there is some explicit drug use in this story. 
> 
> A special thank you to Kali for betaing this and letting me ramble. And of course for allowing me to borrow Brock from her story Hunger of the Pine. (if you haven't read it you really need to. It's AMAZING) 
> 
> Another thank you to FantasticWinter for allowing me to use TJ who I loved dearly. <3
> 
> Title from the song Harlem by New Politics

The first date was exactly what Brock expected it to be. A classy place, far too expensive menu options and a candle between them. But what he didn’t expect was how easy it would be. There were no long silences, no scrambling to reply correctly. Conversation flowed easily through first date talks to much more intimate information that, due to their past, felt appropriate. 

Jack told Brock about the accident where both his parents perished. Brock extended his condolences and Jack did the same when Brock told him about his Nonna. He got a bit more information about TJ and it was apparent very quickly how much the kid meant to him. Brock had about zero experience dealing with kids but he wanted to hang around with Jack, even if it wasn’t forever, so he’d have to put in some effort. 

Their date ended in Brock’s bed. TJ was with Natasha for the night so Jack was in no hurry to run and Brock was in no rush to have him go. A comfortable silence settled between them as Brock doodled lazy shapes on Jack’s pelvic bone. 

“You smoke?”

Jack had been staring at the longboard hung on the wall, graffitied by a local artist. “What?”

“Smoke,” Brock pressed a kiss against his hip. “Pot. Like a normal person your age?”

“Yeah, that’d be okay.”

“Do you care if I do a few lines while you smoke?”

Brock pulled himself upward to grab his dab pen. “Nah, it’s fine.” 

“You know how to use one of these?”

“Press the button and inhale?”

“Real funny. This is live resin so go easy.”

Jack took the pen and Brock grabbed his dime bag. Licking his bottom lip he asked, “Would you let me take a line off you?”

Jack looked at him, green eyes piercing through the smoke curling from his nose. “Sure.”

Brock grinned, climbing between his thighs. “Whoa, whoa.” Jack exhaled a plume of smoke. “What are you planning on taking lines on? My dick?”

Brock smirked. “Don’t move.”

Jack looked a bit alarmed but more than alarmed he looked intrigued. The line he formed was thick and Brock admired it for a moment: a fat line of cocaine running along a truly impressive cock. The kind that made Brock’s mouth water just thinking about. 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Jack said, taking another hit. 

The sweet smell of pot and the heady smell of sex swirled around Brock, the quiet music in the background made the moment feel ethereal, unworldly. “Can I?”

Jack looked startled and Brock looked down to make sure his line was still safely intact. It was. 

“Can I?” Brock asked again. It would make the best screensaver. Something to look back to fondly, something meaningful and something to jerk off too. The perfect trifecta. 

“If you really want to I suppose it’s okay…” Jack was blushing and Brock found that funny. A guy with a dick like this should have been cocky as all hell. But not Jack. Something about him was different.

Brock took the picture, snapping this moment into permanency. Then he lowered himself down, looking up through eyelashes to where Jack was taking another puff from the pen. Brock snorted the line, closing his eyes briefly to savor the sensation before he ran the broad of his tongue along the skin to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Then, taken by the sheer jolt of energy, he swallowed Jack to root leaving the man hacking on the hit he’d just taken. 

“The fuck!” He set aside the pen and stared down at Brock. “Coulda warned me.”

Brock liked how his words ran together when he was high. He looked significantly less tense, not quite so on the edge like he thought Brock would cast him out. It was cute. Jack really was one of the good ones. 

Brock carefully scraped his front teeth down his cock and Jack shuddered. Brock came up for air, thumb swirling around the head of his dick to keep Jack needy. 

“Fuck you’re hot.” Brock said between pants and then he got right back to it. 

Far too soon Jack came (Brock couldn’t blame him; he was renowned for his head game after all). Brock crawled up his body, kissing here and there before sprawled across his chest. He loved it when their skin touched. The texture, the sensation — all of it. 

“You’re very handsome.” Jack said in return and Brock laughed. 

“I know I am. But I don’t think you know that you are.”

Jack’s cheeks flushed and he reached for the pen. Soon wisps of vapor were swirling around them and Brock settled his head on Jack’s pec listening to the strong, steady heartbeat. 

“How do you know Nat?”

“Through Clint. We — TJ and I — met him during an informative meeting about service dogs. The program helps with the costs of training. He’s sponsoring us, kind of.”

Brock took a drag and savored the birthday cake flavored live resin. “Sounds pretty legit to me. He’s a good guy.”

“You went to school with them, right?”

“Yup.” They were quiet for a moment and then Brock said, “You should get a tattoo.”

Jack laughed. “Really?”

“Mmhm. Right here,” Brock drew a finger along his hip bones. “It would be sexy.”

“It would be painful.”

“Pain is fun,” Brock replied with a toothy grin. 

Jack made a face. “Not for me.”

Brock sighed regretfully but pressed a kiss there for good measure and, compulsively, nipped at the spot. Jack looked down sternly and Brock grinned with his skin between his teeth. Jack gave his head a gentle push and Brock let go frowning. There were pink indentations on his creamy skin where Brock’s teeth had been. 

“I was trying to give you a temporary tattoo, Rollins. Now you’ve ruined it.”

“I am so very sorry.”

“Y’know I feel like you don’t mean that.”

“I don’t.”

“Well that’s just rude.”

Jack grinned, folding an arm behind his head staring at the ceiling. For forty minutes they laid together, skin to skin, reflective and quiet. There was something about Jack. Something different than all the ones before. And he liked it. 

•• •• •• ••

On their fourth date, Brock was properly introduced to TJ. His mop of curls was the same as were his bright blue gray eyes. He didn’t seem shy in the least, abandoning a pile of Legos to run over and greet him. “Hi! You’re Jack’s friend Brock!”

“Yup. Six letters right?”

TJ beamed and Jack smiled. One point for Brock. “I have seven.” TJ informed, suddenly incredibly serious. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Right Jack? We gotta be nice to everyone.”

Jack smiled down at him. “Yes.”

TJ seemed very restless, looking back to the Legos and then to Brock like he was struggling to choose between the two. Brock asked if he could play Legos with him and the wide grin told Brock he’d just earned another point. He was on fucking fire. Who said he wasn’t good with kids anyway? Sure, it was funny when they fell over and they definitely had no reason to be at restaurants or movie theaters in his opinion, but that wasn’t something Jack would appreciate. 

TJ told a very long story to get him up to date on why they were building a silo and a rocket (“The aliens are evil, Brock. They wanna steal all of our animals!”) and Brock bobbed his head along like he was supposed to. After his contribution was finished he fished out his dab pen and took a hit. Jack made a noise in the back of his throat and Brock turned his head to where he was perched on the couch, overseeing the play. “What? You wanna rip it?”

He offered the pen and it was swiped away aggressively. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?” 

It was phrased like a question but Jack’s lips were drawn into a tight line and his eyes hard. He got to his feet and walked stiffly to the other room. TJ hadn’t noticed, too absorbed in finding the right colored blocks for his shocking skillful built robot. “Be back, kid.” 

Brock got to his feet, puzzled. In the kitchen Jack held the pen out for him. “Not around TJ.” 

“You think the kid’s a narc? Maybe he’s an undercover DEA agent.”

“I’m not amused.” 

“Are you really mad?” 

“Not mad. Just… Look, it’s not my fault for mentioning it sooner. I get that you do this stuff for fun but it can’t be done around TJ.” 

“It’s a dab pen, Jack. It’s not like I’m popping molly.” 

“I don’t care.” Jack looked hellbent on this and that really, really sucked. “Not around him.” 

Brock sighed in defeat and slipped the pen back into his pocket. “Happy?” 

Jack closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them he looked apologetic. “TJ doesn’t understand this kind of stuff. If he tells one of his teachers then I risk losing him.” 

Brock was sympathetic to that, he really was. But if things went further where would his favorite pastime fit into their life? 

** ** ** **

Brock enjoyed the time spent in his apartment and felt only a little guilty about it. He liked this Jack, the one relaxed, stoned, looking out the window at the glittering city. Brock was distracted, rummaging through his medicine cabinet for promethazine he had gotten from Natasha ages ago. He had been waiting for the right night to make his favorite drink and being with Jack certainly felt like that. 

He finally found the bottle and went back out to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jack had gotten up from the table and wrapped his arms around him, chin resting on Brock’s shoulder after pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck. “Making a drink.”

“What kind of drink?”

“The best kind.” Brock replied cheekily and Jack bit his earlobe.

He took a glass and pulled open his junk food drawer. He tried to keep the amount of shitty food he had in the apartment to a minimum. Pushing aside single serve Oreos and bags of mini M&Ms, he found some Jolly Ranchers. He selected the purple ones and dropped them in. Jack released him as he went to the fridge for crushed ice. He popped the top off the promethazine and poured it over the ice and fished out a can of Sprite to top it off. Giving it a stir with a spoon he turned to Jack with a grin. 

“Purple drank.” He presented it proudly. 

Jack was looking at the bottle with a frown. “Codeine?”

“It’s a once in a while thing. Tonight felt special.” 

Jack looked wary. “And why is tonight so special?” 

“Because I’m with you.”

Jack flushed a bit but toyed with the bottle. “I’m okay.” 

Brock shrugged. “Your loss, Rollins.” 

** ** ** **

Brock’s ideal date was definitely not hanging out at a playground but it was ‘playground day’ for TJ so he came along. He pregamed before he got in the Uber because who could deal with a bunch of screaming children sober? 

Jack greeted him with a kiss and TJ hugged him. “I’m so happy you came. Will you play with me?” 

“I’ll do my best.” Brock replied dutifully and Jack smiled. 

He wasn’t tallying points anymore. He knew he was winning hands down. After TJ went down the slide a million and a half times and tried the monkey bars only to end up on the rubbery stuff padding the entire playground, they went to the swings. Jack was mandated to push (“Jack does the bestest underdogs!”) so Brock snagged the swing beside him. 

“Brock! Look at me! I’m higher than you!” 

Brock couldn’t help but laugh. “I highly doubt that.” 

When they finished ‘playground day’ the kiss Jack gave him felt different. Brock was never one to worry about what other people thought about him but that was before Jack. Now he was worried that somehow he had misstepped during this outing. He hadn’t even brought his Juul. How was it possible that he’d upset Jack? After writing and deleting far too much Brock heaved a sigh and just hit the call button. 

“Hello?” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Jack sighed. That wasn’t a no. Why did his stomach plummet? “It’s just… I don’t know if we’re going to work, Brock. I care about you, I do. But at the end of the day, TJ comes first.”

“Oh.” 

“I’d just like to take a little break, okay? See where we stand.” 

His lungs began to ache and tears were pooling in Brock’s eyes and he didn’t understand. This wasn’t him, he didn’t get emotional because someone couldn’t see how much of a dime he was. But Jack wasn’t someone -- he was Jack. 

“Yeah okay.” 

By some miracle Brock’s voice doesn’t crack and when Jack hangs up he doesn’t throw his phone. He sets it carefully on the bedside table in case Jack calls and changes his mind. Then he lies down and stares at it. 

** ** ** **

The break lasted a week and then two and Brock then blocked Jack’s number and told himself it’s really no big loss. He began to go to the club, eagerly taking home the hottest guy there. They adhered to the ‘cum and run’ rule and Brock enjoyed the sore feeling of being well fucked in an empty bed. Then he dabbed up and started his day with a few Adderall and a long day at the gym that he wound down with Klonopin. He wasn’t one for pills, not normally, but he needed the help to get back into the groove. Natasha didn’t like it but she was understanding enough to not chastise him too much. 

Deep down Brock knew that this was why Jack left, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. Not when he had a broken heart and the only way to fix that was to numb the pain for a bit. He threw himself completely into the gym as well, beating bags until his knuckles were broken open and sore. Eventually that wasn’t doing it so he began to go to bars for the sole purpose of getting into fights. Black eyes and broken noses still couldn’t completely mask the pain of losing Jack. He began to worry that nothing would. 

He missed the kid too. The crooked smile, the infectious enthusiasm toward the most mundane… But apparently Brock had been deemed unworthy. He tried to respect that but it was just too fucking hard. 

“You’re gonna burn out soon.” Clint informed him. 

He wasn’t cocooned in the purple throw today. Instead it was one with puppies. Chopped had been replaced with Cupcake Wars. Lucky had his head rested on Brock’s knee, sensing his sadness. “I’ll be fine.” 

“He asks about you, you know.” Clint was relentless even though his attention was directly solely at the TV. “He’s worried. He’s got every right to be.” 

Natasha made a noise of agreement. Brock felt a bit betrayed. It wasn’t that he thought his friends shouldn’t be spending time with Jack (although it did chafe at him) he just wanted them to see his side. “What if Clint told you that you had to stop dealing?”

“Clint would never say that because Clint cannot survive off SSDI,” Clint cut in. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Actually, I would stop. I care more about Clint than I do about money. But that’s not to say Jack is in the right, telling you to change completely. That’s not very fair.” 

At least Natasha understood the situation Brock had been put into. Drugs were a hobby, his way of relaxing and having fun and Jack wanted him to stop? It was selfish. “No it’s not. It’s like Nat telling you can’t watch the Food Network.” 

Clint turned his blue eyes toward them looking horrified. “Please don’t.” 

“If I have to sit through another Cake Boss marathon I might just.” 

Clint huffed and pulled the throw tighter around his shoulders. 

“TJ asks about you still,” Natasha dropped casually and Brock’s heart twinged uncomfortably.

“Oh yeah? How’s the kid anyway?”

Brock took another rip from his Juul and drummed his fingers on his leg. He’d tried to see Jack’s point but he couldn’t see the issue. Don’t do them in front of the kid, it was simple as that. The kid was funny when he was sober but he was downright hilarious when he wasn’t. It was a win win. The kid loved to laugh as much as Brock did -- they were cool, why couldn’t Jack see that? 

“Good. They’re having a ‘contest’ on building the best Valentines box. Everyone gets their own special ribbon. He’s very excited.” 

It sounded like something he'd enjoy and Brock mustered a smile. If he was still with Jack he could imagine being there with a mess of construction paper, glue, glitter and the works. Jack was the kind of guy to go all out. But he wasn’t so why was he bothering to imagine it? Jack was one of the good ones for sure but he wasn’t good for Brock. That was okay. Well, it would be okay. One day. Brock hoped. 

** ** ** **  
Brock didn’t have a problem. At least that’s what he thought when he went to see Natasha and she deadass refused to sell him anything but carts. 

“What the fuck?” 

He hands clenched into fists and Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “You’re out of control. I’m not selling to you anything until you straighten out.” 

“I’m perfectly in control and it’s your fucking job to sell to me.” 

Natasha put her hands on his hips. “Feel free to lodge a complaint with my boss. Oh wait, I work for myself.” 

“You’re such a fucking cunt.” 

“Okay, well, get the fuck out of my apartment, Rumlow.”

Brock saw red. He grabbed a vase off the window sill and threw it at her head. She dunked and the vase exploded against the wall. He wasn’t thinking clearly but the sound of Lucky barking dragged him out of his rage. He turned to see Lucky half on Clint’s lap, licking his face. He had done this. He had tried to attack one of his friends and given his other a panic attack. Brock turned and left. Maybe he wasn’t as in control as he thought. 

** ** ** **

Apologies were hard. Brock had hidden from his mistakes for the best eight steps and now he was on the ninth, he had to do it. So he hovered in front of 24B and rehearsed what he’d say -- assuming Natasha was home (Clint never answered the door). He rapped his knuckles against the door and shifted uneasily. He could hear the TV through the door. Hell’s Kitchen by the number of bleeps. Then, just when he was going to turn around he heard footsteps coming and the chain sliding. The door cracked open and Brock was looking at a set of very familiar green eyes. Just seeing her was a relief. He had missed her and Clint and Lucky more than he could ever express. 

“Hey.” Brock mumbled. 

“Hey yourself.” Natasha made a show of looking him up and down. “You look good, Rumlow.” 

“Thanks.” Brock swallowed hard. “Um, can I come in?”

“I don’t know. Am I still a cunt?”

Brock flinched at the word. “No, God no, I’m so sorry. I… I’m supposed to apologize to everyone I’ve hurt.” 

Natasha looked surprised. “I’m not going to deal to you anymore.” 

Brock nodded his head. While that did make his stomach clench up a bit, those cravings there, lingering beneath his skin, he knew it was for the best and he was lucky to have a friend who was even considering forgiving him after what he’d done. Natasha looked him up and down again and said, “Apologize to Clint first.” 

Brock nodded his head vigorously. That had been his intention from the start. Not to say that throwing a vase at Nat’s head wasn’t important. She stepped back and opened the door. For the first time Brock felt like a stranger in this apartment. Even though it was all familiar he felt out of place there. Like he had lost the right to be there. Clint was having a bad day by the collection of blankets around him. 

“He’s been like that since the incident,” Natasha’s cold tone made all the sense in the world and Brock felt a bit nauseated. “If he doesn’t accept your apology you need to leave.” 

The extra pressure made him a bit nervous but he tried to push through it as he approached the living room. Clint didn’t look at him, eyes trained on the screen. “Hey, Clint.” Brock swallowed thickly. “I… I wanted to apologise to you for everything that happened that day. I -- fuck, I was way outta line. I’m going through NA and… And I had a problem back then and I recognize that. It was unfair to you and Natasha to be treated that way, especially when you guys were trying to help me.” 

“You could have really hurt Natasha,” Clint still wouldn’t look at him and Lucky nudged his hand, licking his palm. 

“I know. I’m going to apologize to her next.” 

Clint began to pet Lucky. “I forgive you.” 

Brock could have cried. “I really am sorry Clint.” 

“I know.” 

Brock knew mending their relationship would take much more than an apology but for now, that was enough. “Thank you.” 

“Mmhm. Could you imagine being in Gordon Ramsey’s kitchen and not knowing how to make scallops. Fucking idiots.” 

Brock laughed. “I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Me neither.” 

Apologizing to Natasha was easier. She was upfront about how she felt about having items thrown at her head but she accepted his apology and even offered some coffee. He accepted the cup and told Natasha about the horror of being at rehab and how much work it would take to get back into shape. But, he added, it was well worth it. Natasha went so far as to congratulate him for his progress. When Brock left, he was pleased to see a throw on the floor. He had a lot of work to do but it was nice to see it was paying off bit by bit.

Before too long Brock had one last person to apologize to and he was at his wits end trying to avoid it. He knew it had to be done. He knew that what happened with Jack was going to be part of his tenth step. His sponsor offered some insight about treating it as a dual activity. So, with hesitance, Brock unblocked Jack and spent three hours trying to think of a good text to send and in the end he settled with: ‘hey’.

Forty minutes he got a text that left him gutted. ‘Who is this?’

He considered abandoning it. Jack had clearly moved on, his number no longer in his phone. But he had to complete this step. So, painfully, he texted: ‘Brock Rumlow’

The response came almost immediately. ‘Hi. Sorry TJ dropped my phone and I had to get a new one and lost all my contacts. How are you?’

In the NA meetings they said that apologies through texts didn’t count. So, with a heavy heart he said, ‘I need to talk to you in person if that’s okay’.

Jack suggested a local cafe with outdoor seating and Brock agreed before promptly worrying about it. What would he say? Would TJ be there? Should he apologize to TJ? 

Brock got no sleep the night before and arrived fifteen minutes early. He ordered a large black coffee, and because he was anxious, a pain au chocolat. Then he grabbed an outside table and continually refreshed his email as a way to deal with his anxiety. A Lyft appeared and Jack was getting out, TJ holding onto his hand talking a mile a minute. Once he caught sight of Brock he dashed at him and hugged him. 

“Hi! I missed you,” the kid pulled back to grin. “I missed you lots and lots and Jack said you were busy but today he said I’m gonna see you and get a cupcake too.” 

Brock blinked but managed, “Looks like there are some yummy ones in there.” 

“And a hot chocolate or a smoothie,” TJ added. “Jack promised.”

Jack offered a tight apologetic smile and urged TJ towards the door. “I’ll be right back.” 

Brock nodded, slurping on the far too hot coffee to soothe his frayed nerves. When Jack came back and sat opposite his mind went blank. All he could think about was all the times he sat opposite this man, back when they were lovers and not strangers. It felt wrong and, really, it was all Brock’s fault. 

When they came back Brock painted on the best smile he had, TJ taking the chair to his left with a cup of what must have been hot chocolate by the heap of whipped cream on top. 

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was getting worried.”

Brock almost reminded him that they were on a break, Jack’s own doing, but he understood now. Brock’s idea of control had been flimsy at best. He broke his own rules and justified it. No more, Brock reminded himself. The people in his life were more important than getting high. 

“I, uh, went to,” Brock looked down at TJ who had a whip cream mustache and was licking frosting off his cupcake. “R-e-h-a-b.”

Jack looked startled and TJ looked at him. “Re-huh-ah-bu,” he sounded out looking puzzled. “Jack what’s rehab?”

Jack flinched and Brock tried to look as apologetic as possible. He wasn’t a baby, the kid knew how to string letters into words. Hopefully that didn’t count against him too much. 

“It’s a place to go when you need help to get better.”

“Like doctors?”

“Yeah Teej, like the doctors.”

TJ beamed at Brock. “My doctor is the bestest! When I get shots she gives me a lollipop! I like orange best. Which do you like?”

“Red.”

“That’s a good color! Miss Wanda says that it’s okay everyone has different flavors coz we’re all unique! Isn’t that neat?”

Brock took comfort in the fact that TJ was the same despite the tension between Jack and him. When TJ stopped talking to take another drink of hot chocolate Jack jumped in to ask, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“I’m doing the uh, step program and I’m on step nine so…”

“I’m not too familiar with which steps are which.” Jack looked apologetic.

“It’s where you apologize to people you’ve hurt.”

Jack appeared startled and immediately protested, “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“I do. I know you probably don’t really care about what happened between us but I’m still sorry that I didn’t respect you or your wishes about being sober around TJ.”

Jack looked bewildered. “What do you mean, I don’t care? When we broke up I was heartbroken. It was one of the hardest choices I ever made.”

Knowing he had fucked something so good up hurt more than expected. Brock wanted to leave. He didn’t want to look at what he had lost any longer. 

“I just wanted to say sorry. I should, um, go.”

He opened the Uber app, intent on getting out of there as soon as possible. 

“Brock, wait.”

“What?” Brock asked and his voice was harsh but he couldn’t help it. “I get it. I get that I lost you and I fu-messed everything up.”

“Why don’t we try to fix it? If you’re doing as well as it seems you are, I’d really like to see if we can mend things between us.”

Making amends wasn’t supposed to go like this, Brock was fairly certain. The moment was surreal, Brock hastily turned around and agreed with him. Jack’s smile was warm like Brock remembered it being. 

Hope glimmered on the horizon and as long as he kept course, he could be part of this odd little family.


End file.
